


Getting to Know you

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alley Sex, Community: hd_seasons, First Time, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McGonagall orders Harry and Draco to go spend an evening in Hogsmeade and have a few drinks, talk, and get to know each other. Her attempt to stop her new professors from fighting works far better than she might have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to Know you

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for nicevenn for her stocking at hd_seasons on Livejournal.
> 
> I don't own the boys, JK Rowling does. I just like to play with them!

Go to Hogsmeade. Have a few drinks. Get to know each other better.

It hadn’t been a suggestion; it had been an order, and both Draco and Harry were forced to follow it as McGonagall all but shoved them out the door. So they’d made their way into the small town, and slowly, over the course of a few hours, had managed to have an almost civil conversation.

Admittedly, the strong application of firewhiskey to the problem might have helped.

It was only a bottle. Or two. And somewhere by the dregs of the second bottle, they were leaning against each other in the same side of the booth, toasting couples that they knew and bemoaning their own single states.

Harry had to admit, he was surprised how calm Draco seemed about Pansy’s marriage to Blaise. Which had only led to him telling about how Ginny and Neville had gotten together at a holiday party at the Weasleys after Harry dragged him there, and how Neville had barely managed to stammer out an explanation and apology before Harry told him to hush and got him drunk in congratulations.

“I never really wanted her,” he confided to Draco. “Thought I did. There was this war, and we were going to die, and what’re you s’posed to do when this brill redhead is throwing herself at you?” Thing was, Harry had realized not all that far afterwards that he’d only taken her because she reminded him of someone else. Someone who was married to his other best friend right now, so that made him just a bit unavailable. Not to mention the part where he was straight enough that Harry hadn’t even managed to confess that he didn’t like girls.

“Keep trying to set me up,” Harry muttered, staring at his empty glass, then glaring at Draco as if he were responsible. “Why don’t they get the bloody idea that I’m not interested?”

Draco’s grey eyes had gone dark, almost black as he watched Harry. He blinked slowly. “Likely the same reason Pansy never quite figures it out. She thought I ought to shag Astoria. Her best friend’s sister, you know.”

Harry nodded, even though he didn’t have any idea who she was.

“S’not my type. All little and feisty and _soft_.” Draco gulped down the last of his firewhiskey. “And I’m completely sodden drunk. Ought to get back. Think McGonagall’ll let us back in?”

Harry held out one hand, counting items off on one finger at a time very carefully. “We’re drunk. We talked about _life_. And we didn’t hurt each other. M’thinking we’re probably good in her books.” He stared down at the three fingers, suspecting there was supposed to be another point but he couldn’t remember it. “I’m glad we don’t have classes to teach tomorrow.”

Draco pushed himself to his feet, shrugging into his heavy cloak. “I’m quite sure she won’t mind if we miss breakfast. All that noise.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Tomorrow is a day for potions. And pumpkin juice.”

Together they managed to make it to the door, leaning against each other to stay upright and laughing when chairs seemed to get in their way, all on their own. But as soon as they made it out the door, they paused, blinking into the heavy snow.

“It’s snowing.”

“Brilliant observation, Potter,” Draco drawled, correcting himself after a moment. “Harry.”

Because they’d promised to use first names. Just to make McGonagall feel better, of course. No matter how _interesting_ his name sounded on Draco’s lips.

Lips. Harry was caught for a moment looking at them, fuller than he thought. Red from the cold already. He bit his own, blinking a bit as he realized Draco was staring at him. Had he missed something else that was said? “Yeah?”

“Can’t apparate,” Draco said carefully. Which was true, they’d splinch and of course, Hogwarts had the wards.

“Have to walk,” Harry agreed.

It took two of them to get each other bundled up, cold fingers fueled by alcohol and not dextrous enough to pull on gloves and ties scarves alone. Somewhere in the midst of it, one of Harry’s gloves disappeared, leaving his left hand uncovered. He stared at the fingers forlornly, and was surprised when Draco grabbed his hand, wrapping it in his own gloved fingers, and shoved it in his pocket.

“If you come back with frostbite, she’ll say I did it to you on purpose,” Draco pointed out. Harry supposed he was right. But that didn’t change how nice it felt, and how aware Harry was of his fingers curled within Draco’s pockets, protected by him.

They trudged through the snow, drifting closer to each other until their shoulders leaned together as they stumbled onwards through more snow than Harry really wanted to see. And he couldn’t see, not well, not with it swirling around them. Not to mention that he was getting cold and starting to shiver. Hard. All over. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “S’cold.”

And Draco was warm. Harry realized that now, and he couldn’t quite think how that would be, but he nudged in closer until Draco released his hand and threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders instead.

“You’re a wizard,” Draco pointed out.

Well, yes, but what did that have to do with anything?

Oh. Right. Warming charms. Harry stopped right there in the middle of the street, fumbling for his wand. Draco stopped him, catching his other hand, facing him and standing too close as he murmured the words for the spell.

Not that he needed it anymore. He could swear that the snow was steaming off of Draco’s skin, evaporating as it fell, and now that the spell fell around Harry, it did the same there, leaving him toasty warm.

With Draco still too close, right there, right in front of him and staring at him.

Or was Harry staring at Draco? Maybe both. Did it matter?

What mattered was that Draco still had his wand in his hand, and Harry was about to do something exceedingly ill considered. “Don’t hex me,” he muttered, right before he reached up with his one gloved hand to cup Draco’s head, pulling him that last bit closer so Harry could kiss him.

If their bodies were warm, Draco’s lips were hot, the taste of fire on his tongue as Harry teased him and was let inside. Harry groaned, stumbling backwards when Draco moved, until he was pressed against a wall, not quite hidden in the shadows.

Harry didn’t have to ask if Draco liked this. He felt the answer as a hard ridge pressing against his thigh. Huh. Well, that explained most of their conversation. Of course Astoria—whoever she was—wasn’t his type. When the kiss broke, Harry mumbled, “You’re going to hex me for this in the morning. We’re both pissed out of our minds, and—”

“Shut up, Harry.” Draco claimed his mouth again, shifting to press against Harry more fully, hips to hips.

“We’re in the street—”

Draco grabbed him and twisted and suddenly they were in the alleyway, hidden in the darkness, barely able to see the streetlamps. And remarkably with all their parts still intact; Harry checked, enjoying that bit as he let his hand drift down across Draco’s chest, down below his waistband, pressing his heel against the hard ridge.

Draco groaned, and Harry grinned. “I like seeing you come undone like that.”

Draco pulled back and arched one eyebrow. “Shut up, Harry.”

Right then. Harry decided the time for talking was done, and that instead, since they were so warm now despite the snow, maybe they could do with a little less clothes. Or some open clothes. He fumbled at the buttons of Draco’s shirt, yanking his one glove off so he could press bare fingers against the chest now available to him, teasing across the flat nipples until Draco made that noise again. Harry liked that noise. It was an interesting noise.

But then Draco did the same for him, and Harry moaned, loudly, head falling back against the wall. He heard Draco chuckle, and he had a feeling that they both liked that noise. Useful data. Save it for later. He might need to think about this later. When he was sober.

This time his own mind supplied the phrase: _Shut UP, Harry._

Draco’s hand was inside Harry’s trousers, slipped under the waistband of his pants, stroking his prick. Harry thrust into his hand, groaning again. “Fuck me,” he muttered.

“I think I can accommodate that.”

That wasn’t quite what Harry had meant, but as he was turned towards the wall, his trousers tugged down just enough to bare his arse, he realized it wasn’t a bad idea. He pushed back against Draco’s fingers, groaning loudly as one pressed in, slick and hot (where had the lubricant come from? No matter, Harry decided, as long as it was there). “Yeah. That. Fuck, Draco. Don’t stop.”

A second finger joined the first, driving in deep until Draco stroked over that spot deep inside, and Harry cried out, almost losing control right then and there. He laid his head against his arm on the wall, and bit his own arm, trying to stay silent. _Nownownow_ , wordless moans, pressing back and wanting more.

He felt Draco shift behind him, then the press of something thicker, stretching him to the point of almost pain. Harry shuddered as Draco’s hand found his cock, stroking him in slow movement, timing it with the thrusts until Draco was seated deep inside of him.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco muttered, mouth against his neck and shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight. Should’ve found out you liked this ages ago. Think of the make up sex we could’ve been having after all our fights.”

“Save that thought.” Harry tried to laugh, but it turned to a moan as Draco pulled out and thrust in hard. “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

Each thrust went deeper, until Harry was pushed into the wall, Draco’s hand moving furiously over his prick. Harry felt the scrape of Draco’s fly, the itchiness of his unshed trousers against his skin. The soft sound of voices moving by on the street just outside of view, unable to see them. It was hotter than any fuck he’d ever had before, and the fact that it was Draco fucking Malfoy only made it moreso. Harry imagined their next time, with Draco on his knees, those sweet red lips wrapped around Harry’s prick, and that was enough for him to come, body arching, arse clenching around Draco.

Two more thrusts, and Draco was coming as well, filling Harry’s arse.

The only sound after was rough breath in the silent night, and the soft drip of melting snow somewhere nearby.

Sanity returned, and Harry realized he had his trousers around his ankles and his legs spread for Malfoy in an alley in Hogsmeade. And Malfoy was still inside him, with his own trousers barely undone.

“Um,” Harry said.

Draco had his wand at the ready, casting a cleansing charm so he could do up his trousers, and motioned for Harry to do the same. “We likely ought to get back to Hogwarts, else McGonagall might think we’ve been lost in the snow and send someone looking.”

“Right.” Harry bent to pull up his own trousers somewhat uncertainly, feeling disturbingly sober now in the aftermath.

“Besides.” Draco arched one eyebrow. “As helpful as the charm is, I suspect we’ll be far warmer in my rooms, and far more comfortable in my bed for our next go.”

Harry managed to recover his thoughts enough to grin. “I’m betting you give great head.”

Draco made a soft snorting sound. “Of course I do. Malfoys never do anything poorly.”

Harry nudged his hand back into Draco’s pocket without asking, liking the way Draco’s now bare fingers curled around his comfortably. As they walked back through the snow to Hogwarts, he had a feeling that his job here was going to be a lot more interesting for the rest of the year. And if they fought, as Harry was quite sure they still would, at least they’d have fun making it up to each other after.


End file.
